


Trust Immeasurable

by ElentariR



Series: Getting Back to Myself [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, F/M, Noelle - Freeform, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:58:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7240063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElentariR/pseuds/ElentariR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He would tell her. How much, he hadn’t decided. But he needed to share, to hell with the consequences. No, that wasn’t quite true. He very much cared about the consequences. He very much cared about Noelle.</p><p>Bucky reveals his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Immeasurable

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky Barnes gives me all the feels.

Did he really want to do this? He wasn't certain. Even as his hand was poised to rap on the door he doubted his sanity.

Could be trust her? Yes. Bucky didn't doubt that. She had given him no reason to doubt her. And she had already granted him so much trust. But was he ready for anyone – for _her_ _–_ to know the truth? Could he stand before her with his soul bared? True, James Buchanan Barnes was largely public information now – but the Winter Soldier? That was another beast entirely.

And could he burden her like this? He didn’t exactly have cheerful things to share.

The door opened before he could flee. “I thought I heard someone. Come on in.” Her smile was tentative. She had doubts too. He reminded himself that it wasn't too late to back out. And he could lie. The Lord knew he was good at it.

Noelle led him to the couch. Two mugs filled with a steaming dark liquid sat on the coffee table, an open bag of marshmallows serving as their companion. She told him that Steven had just went to bed for the evening, though he seemed a bit under the weather. A bug was going around his classroom.

Her level of comfort with him astounded him. She willingly opened her home, allowing him access to her son. She willingly turned her back to him. She would meet him alone. And she disregarded modern fashion and poise, wearing loose lounge pants and a ‘Marine’ hoodie. It all felt like a huge weight although it swelled his chest with hope.

Noelle handed him a mug – hot chocolate. Delicious. She sat patiently on the couch, legs folded and facing him, with her own mug pillowed between her legs. Bucky opened his mouth, but his tongue felt thick – swollen. Words refused to be formulated. Noelle responded to his desperate plea for understanding with a sympathetic smile. Her small hand briefly touched his upper arm before returning to her lap.

“I’m not who you think I am.” He winced. “I mean, I am, but I’m not.”

Bucky had no sooner gotten the words out when the sound of Steven retching reached the living room. Noelle shot up, sending Bucky an apologetic glance, and sprinted to her son’s bedroom. Bucky remained awkwardly on the couch for a half moment, unsure of what to do. He took a few steps towards the sound of Noelle’s quiet, calming voice and paused. By the sound of it, she would be occupied for a bit. Steven’s fears needed soothing and his sheets required changing and washing; Bucky did not doubt she would remain awake for a good bit of the evening tending to her son.

He remembered Steve Rogers doing the same for his ailing mother.

He remembered doing the same for Steve Rogers more than once.

Noelle murmured her apologies to Bucky when she emerged from Steven’s rooms, her arms full of bedsheets dotted with images of trains, planes, and automobiles. She was careful to keep her voice low. Steven, Bucky had learned, had impeccable hearing when it was least desired. Her distress was plain. Bucky was astonished to realize that her son’s illness was not the main cause of her distress – she explained that “these things happen.” Her main concern was...him. His well-being.

And Bucky didn’t know what to do with that.

Bucky assured her that Steven’s health was more pressing. “Let me know if there is anything I can do to help.” They had parted ways shortly after, Bucky’s head consumed by a maelstrom.

0

Steven had only caught a minor cold as Noelle had expected, and he was back to his perky self one day later. Noelle, in her own very subtle way, let Bucky know that her ear was still open should he wish to make use of it. She didn’t press. She didn’t pry. But Bucky felt and appreciated her support, even if he didn’t understand it.

Three days had passed since Bucky had made his first attempt at disclosure. He hardly talked to Noelle during that time. Instead, he took the time to reflect and consider his actions – whether he could or _should_ reveal his true identity and nature to Noelle. She was special to him. He wanted to be honest with her – especially in the face of her goodness – but being honest with her in this made him terribly vulnerable in so many ways. Revealing his past would strip him down to nothing. Every bit of him would be laid bare before Noelle. She would finally learn of his true self. He prayed she would never see the Soldier.

The trust it would take to share his past was immeasurable. And should he be discovered by the wrong people, she and Steven could be caught straight in the crosshairs. Although any surveillance worth the name would know Noelle and Steven were special to him, regardless of if Noelle knew the truth. At least if she knew something she could be prepared.

And make an educated choice. She would be well within her right as a mother to say she couldn’t have Bucky in her life – around her son. Putting them in danger.

And Bucky wouldn’t stop her, no matter the pain it inflicted.

He would tell her. How much, he hadn’t decided. But he needed to share, to hell with the consequences. No, that wasn’t quite true. He very much cared about the consequences. He very much cared about Noelle.

Finally the next day, after Steven had already gone to bed, Bucky found himself sitting on Noelle’s couch with more hot chocolate. He felt calmer than he had earlier in the week. Even earlier that day he had been jittery and on edge. His coworkers had given him a wide berth, which suited Bucky just fine.

Bucky and Noelle made eye contact. She tilted her head slightly, but remained patiently silent. He carefully reached into his pocket and withdrew crinkled paper. He hesitated. “I will understand if, after tonight, you don’t want to speak to me. Just say the word, and I swear I will never bother you or Steven again.” The words caught in his throat, but he forced them out. Noelle’s expression was nothing short of heartbroken. A tear glistened in each eye.

“James...”

“Barnes.” He interrupted her. She blinked. “My name. It’s James Buchanan Barnes.” He slowly handed her the paper – a brochure he had taken from the museum exhibit in Washington D.C. He had opened it to show his face.

Noelle stared down at the paper for a moment before lifting her face, a million questions in her eyes. She pointed at his face. “That’s you. How is that you?”

And he spilled everything. He certainly hadn’t meant to, but he found he couldn’t start once he had started. There was a sense of relief to be in control, even as he bared his soul. He told her about his home, his family. Steve. The war. His capture and rescue. The Howling Commandos. The fall. HYDRA. Zola. The conditioning. The training. The Winter Soldier. His freedom. He spared her the details of the horrors of war, of the deaths he had witnessed and caused. Some things he did not think he would every be able to share, even with Noelle.

He couldn't look at her while he spoke. He stared down at his mug and the beige carpet. But he couldn't bear to see her face. Finally, he fell silent. There was nothing else to say. He still looked away.

“James,” her voice was soft and strained. He looked at her finally and was astonished to see tears wetting her cheeks. He looked for signs of anger, fear, or loathing. He saw...none. “I'm going to give you a hug now.” Slowly, as if she didn't want to startle him, she scooted closer and wrapped her arms around his torso and held him tightly. He tentatively put his arms around her. He was reminded that he wasn’t the first soldier she had comforted.

He couldn't remember ever receiving a hug. It was...pleasant. He leaned his head against hers, relishing the contact. Suddenly – too soon – she pulled away. “Why… You’re crying.”

Why would she be crying? She shouldn’t be crying. He wasn’t worth her tears.

She gave him a watery compassionate smile. “I’m crying because, James, what they did to you...What you’ve gone through...” Words failed her. She pressed a clenched hand, trembling, to her heart. “My heart hurts.” She shook her head and stood. “Don't you leave.” She disappeared into the kitchen. Her absence made him feel his discomfort. Blood rushes through his veins, pushed more forcefully by his racing heart. How could he have shared that? She would surely loathe and fear him. He had gone and mucked it all up.

Noelle's startled noise from where she stood in the kitchen doorway made Bucky freeze with his hand on the doorknob. She held two pints of ice cream and two spoons, her right hand kept at an awkward position because of her splint. “Where are you going?”

He didn't have an answer.

She sighed. “Well, ice cream won't fix what happened, not by a long shot, but it's worth a try.” She offered him a smile. “Besides, I'm hungry and I didn't have lunch. I think I forgot breakfast, too.”

Bucky was silent for a moment. His eyes flickered towards the door. No. “Two pints?” He asked finally. Noelle lifted an eyebrow and thrusted a pint toward him.

“I don't share.”

She handed him a spoon with a twinkle in her eye. A slow smile spread across his face.

Maybe he hadn't ruined everything.

0

To his utter surprise, Bucky felt lighter after divulging his past to Noelle. Yeah, it was awkward for him at first. He felt like hiding. It was a feeling he largely managed to overcome, but the vulnerability… Bucky found himself drawing more strength from Steven’s stuffed bear than he ever thought he would – and he would vehemently deny possessing a stuffed animal if anyone ever inquired.

Bucky and Noelle had sat on the couch eating ice cream until nearly sunrise. Noelle had listened to it all with the patience of a saint. He didn't deserve it, though Noelle seemed to disagree. She had leveled such a scorching glare on him after he made the mistake of alluding to that feeling – he had nearly cowered.

Bucky had begun spending more time with the Grey family – a weekly movie night, occasionally accompanying them on an outing to the park, coffee with Noelle when Steven was with one of his friends. There was talk that he might even meet her sister soon. They were going to have coffee a few days after he revealed his past to Noelle, but Bucky was struggling with a panic attack – Noelle covered for him.They had to reschedule a second time when Joy’s OBGYN appointment had to be moved. Joy, Bucky learned, was in the family way.

He wasn’t their constant companion, but they met frequently.

He still had nightmares. He still struggled with guilt and paranoia. Adjusting to the modern world was still difficult. Bucky didn’t think any of that would change soon – and he wasn’t certain it should. It served as a reminder of why he wasn’t the Winter Soldier. But he found that Noelle and Steven were a kind of balm. They helped him heal and to accept that he wasn’t the same Bucky was before. And that was alright, as Noelle reminded him. No one could go through what he had and emerge unchanged.

One Saturday, Bucky found himself fighting the urge to sing along with the Beauty and the Beast soundtrack as they returned from the day’s outing. He pretended he didn’t notice Noelle smothering a smile after glancing at him. He was a feared master assassin. He wasn’t supposed to know all the words for such songs as “Reflection” or “Can You Feel the Love Tonight.” Dammit, he wasn’t.

But he totally did.

 


End file.
